In addition to this, if you're stuck for something to read this summer, look no further! The Guardian team put together a list of seminal books on identity, including two titles chosen by me. Other contributors include the authors Alan Gibbons, Bali Rai and Sita Brahmchari.

Also, if anybody has ever thought about volunteering at Oxfam; don't even give the decision a second thought, just do it! I've had a brilliant time at Bradford Oxfam this summer, it's been challenging, rewarding and at times surreal!

I also must apologise to the customer whom I accidentally locked in the changing room; I hope I haven't scarred you for life.

Sunday, 13 July 2014

Hello,
As you may well be aware, I have had a bit of clear up of my blog, removing some clutter and irrelevant material. I thought that this would coincide nicely with the new direction that my life is taking. The never-ending torture of GCSEs is finally over, and so I have left school and will be starting 6th form college in September. I am also volunteering for Oxfam on a part time basis, in the books department of my local shop as this is something that I have wanted to do for a long time.
For now, I have the whole golden summer stretching out in front of me!
Thank you for sticking with me and continuing to read this blog. I promise that exciting things are in store...
Love to you all.

Wednesday, 19 March 2014

Today I had the honour and privilege of meeting Holocaust survivor Arek Hersh.

I feel as though what ever I write in this blog post will not accurately convey how I felt about meeting a true hero, so please excuse me if I get emotional.

He came to Benton Park to talk about his experiences as an 11 year old boy during the Holocaust. His story of how his childhood was stolen from him is humbling. I make offhand comments about 'being starving', 'loosing the will to live' and 'being governed by Nazis' but here is a man who has genuinely lived through all of this. A real, physical, visceral reminder of a period in history when Jews were stripped of their rights, dignity and finally their lives at the hands of their fellow human beings.

I had the pleasure of sharing a Kosher lunch with him and he is such a lovely man. He commands an air of silent reverence and everyone that met him was deeply touched. It struck me that I was sat next Arek Hersh, an 86 year old man eating a houmous sandwich , whereas he had once been prisoner B-7608, a small boy, eating the burnt leather from the soles of his shoes in order to survive.

When asked what message he would give to the young people of today, he told us that we should value our right to vote in democratic elections when we come of age and ignore dangerous extremist parties like the BNP. In his words; We are the future.

I will always remember Arek, and also his Mother Bluma, Father Szmuel, Sister Itka, Brother Tovia and Genia, his First Love who weren't so lucky and lost their lives to hundreds of years of anti-semitism.

I urge you to read Arek's book 'A Detail of History' and also watch the harrowing documentary about his life called 'Arek' by Unison Films.

Wednesday, 30 October 2013

I'm not doing very well with this blogging thing, am I? In September I wrote a brilliant blog entitled 'Miliband the Magnolia' about Ed Milliband's lack of policy ideas. Unfortunatley, the lightning-paced nature of politics meant that by the time it was ready to publish, he'd practically re-written the Labour Party Manifesto!

Anyway, someone that's been worrying me recently is Russell Brand. Surprisingly; it's got nothing to do with his sex-addiction, old heroin habit or questionable dress sense. Instead; it's got everything to do with his interview with Jeremy Paxman on Newsnight.

For the first time in my life, I might actually agree with what Jeremy Paxman has to say. When I watched the interview I was literally dumbfounded. Shocked and speechless can't really describe my reaction. Here was Russell Brand, a man whom I quite admired, actually encouraging political apathy! This is a guy who has lived on the very fag end of life, suffered mental health problems and overcome addiction. He has championed the cause of the Tibetans, hugged the Dalai Lama and supported Chelsea (Formerly Bradley) Manning. On paper, you'd image him to some trendy bohemian comedian with a heart and a passion for politics.
Instead, he's appearing on Newsnight ranting at Jeremy Paxman like an angsty 17 year old that hasn't got chest hair yet. It's embarrassing. He sounds like he's stolen 'Das Kapital' from his local library and suddenly become a revolutionary. He appears eloquent, but his argument has no substance.

The worrying thing is that his argument has gained some momentum. Ed O' Brien of Radiohead recently came out in support of Brand on the band's website Dead Air Space. His argument just re-enforces the idea that "All politics is crap and therefore worth ignoring."
Fortunately there have also been some voices of dissent, such as Robert Webb's who is 'renewing his labour party membership' in response to Brand.

As a 16 year old who will be 5 months too young to vote at the next general election, it massively irritates me when people like Russell Brand just carelessly discard their vote like an empty crisp packet. Sitting on your arse and eloquently moaning about the political class does not change anything. Be the change you want to see!

Wednesday, 19 June 2013

Hello!
Not blogged in a while, but as you can see I have a lovely new layout. The birds are meant to have a calming effect. As you are aware, summer not only heralds Glastonbury and midges but the dreaded exam season.

I've often wondered who it is that sets the questions. Who are these mysterious people that get paid to set exam questions? What do they do in their free time? Sit around playing bridge and smoking pipes in matching tweed separates? Also, who are the people in the exam papers? Is Christine the freefall parachutist real? What about Sumeet with his triangular prism shaped pool? And poor Viv, who lacks enough mincemeat in her quest to make 45 mince pies in June?

Monday, 21 January 2013

Hello hello hello,
I've got some questions that need answering. For the sake of my (questionable) sanity.
Firstly, I must ask; Am I dreaming?

In all seriousness, we're a mere 21 days into the new year, and already some pretty bizarre stuff has happened. Correct me if I'm wrong but, on the same website #Cut4Bieber , #OrwellDay and #CBB have been trending. (Ironic, no?)
David Bowie has made the sneakiest comeback in musical history, still managing to exude cool at the age of 66 and with his head superimposed onto a doll's body.
Tesco have managed to alienate Jews and horse lovers alike, by including cute little piggies and ponies in their beef burgers.
The Pope has found new and interesting ways in which to erm... reach out to the youth of today.
Unfortunately, armageddon has hit the British Isles in the form of frozen flakes of water falling from the sky, resulting in a severe impairment to the U.K's journalism and many broken dreams. The effect of falling snow may have even caused several mental health conditions to form in the brains of 'wannabes', as 'Becoming famous' now constitutes sucking a used tampon and filming yourself in the act .However if turning vampire doesn't appeal to you, you could 'do a Katie Price' and marry your 3rd husband in 8 years because a psychic told you so.

That's not all though. My personal favourite of this month's crop of non-news stories has to be Jimmy Savile's guest appearance on the tweenies. Not only was it tear inducingly funny, the song Jimmy introduced was 'one finger one thumb keep moving'. Again, another triumph of the BBC over the British taxpayer.

Tuesday, 4 December 2012

Okay, that's a really banal statement, but you'll see where I'm going with this in a minute.

Anyway, the other day I was listening to BBC Radio 4, when suddenly, an article about soft drugs came on. The broadcaster in question was speaking about the beauty of 'weed bags'. Yes, I-SHIT-YOU-NOT, there was a fully grown man, on a national radio station, almost at the point of orgasm... over little polythene baggies used to store cannabis in. According to the aforementioned bloke, Weed bags should be "Stored in a museum, so people of the future can fully appreciate the beauty and hedonism of the 21st century." Apparently for him; "Finding them on the floor gives me a tiny insight into the mysteries of a total stranger's life."

Yeah, I wasn't quite sure I was fully awake either, but after establishing that I'd not nodded off after eating a large quantities of Brie, I realized that I bloody love the BBC.

Not only do I want to hunt down Mr Weed-Bags and force him to teach Year 10 PHSCE in Leeds secondary schools, but I also want to hugely thank the BBC for spending tax payer's money on gems like this.

I smile a little to myself every night in the thought that 'Hard working British tax payers' like this man here:

are paying for the casual Radio 4 listener to be informed of the beauty of Weed bags.

So let's forget about scandals involving Jimmy Saville, Andrew Sachs and senior Tory MP's, The BBC is worth every single penny of tax payer's money.

Friday, 26 October 2012

Hey, last night I went to go see a fantastic production of Tennessee William's Cat on a Hot Tin Roof at the West Yorkshire profile, courtesy of The Guardian, and they published my review!! But because I'm so completely un-original I thought I'd publish it here too:

The scene
was set. On stage, a fan whirred monotonously round, doing little to dispel the
thick soup of the Mississippi delta air, or the sense of frustration at the
forefront of everything.

Maggie
flounced on stage, and so 3 hours in the company of the dysfunctional and
deeply unhappy Pollitt family began.

Admittedly
this is not the smoothest of metaphors, but the only thing I can liken the play
to is a 1950’s style EastEnders. Although Phil Mitchell fails to make a surprise
cameo and denounce the Pollitts as liars in a booming cockney accent, he may
well have done. All the parallels are there. Suicide, alcoholism, homophobia, a
loveless marriages and deceit. Lots, and
lots of deceit.

The whole
play is centred on the various family members lying to each other. Brick lying
to Maggie, Maggie lying to Big Momma, Big Momma lying to Big Daddy, Big Daddy
lying to Gooper and so forth.

All this is
done with the utmost precision from the cast.
Zoe Boyle’s portrayal of cat like Maggie, oozing sexiness and
beguilement is darkly contrasted to Jamie Parker’s portrayal of Brick and his cold
indifference to anything but whiskey.

Although not always mentioned in a review,
it’s hard to imagine what the play would have been like without the score of
lurking bass and crashing cymbals, courtesy of the Leeds
Improvised Music Association.

To say that
a few skeletons are un-earthed during the course of the play is an
under-statement. Skeleton after skeleton surfaces from the dark waters of the
Mississippi- and hit the audience right where it hurts. In one scene, Brick lurches at Maggie with a
chair, and narrowly misses sending her sprawling to the floor. This sent up an uneasy ripple of laughter
from the audience, which I found very disturbing. Perhaps it is because Brick’s chair forced us
to reflect upon our own lives, and realize that sometimes we are not so different
from the Pollitt family. Ensuring that
long after the set was dismantled, and the saxophonist caught the bus home, the
story of Cat On a Hot Tin Roof would lurk somewhere at the back of our minds.

If anyone else went to see it, feel free to comment below, I'd love to hear everybody's thoughts.

Sunday, 7 October 2012

Okay, I'll apologize in advance for this blog post. I've been a fan of Radiohead since the tender age of 11 and could probably do them as a specialist subject on Mastermind.

Anyway, I SAW RADIOHEAD LIVE LAST NIGHT!

I know! I still can't believe it either.

And guess what.........?

THEY WERE BEYOND AMAZING!!!

And I don't say that lightly either. Even my Mum who is a staunch hater of any band that uses more than four chords in a song had a good night.

After Caribou had finished their set, Thom introduced the band with "Hello, I'm lady gaga!" and they stormed straight into Lotus Flower. Manchester arena was up on it's feet screaming and doing Thom's dance. At this point my brain exploded. It really did, and plastered itself JFK style all over the neighboring seat.

The rest of the night involved lots of dodgy dancing, several life affirming moments, Jonny Greenwood's fringe and a bit of vomit.

I think the whole night can be summed up with a transcript of the conversation between the blokes sat behind us.

Bloke 1: "The fact that they can play with two percussionists in such an odd time sig...."

Thom Yorke: "We're going to play a really, really old song now."

Bloke 2: "OHMIGODSHUTUP THEY'RE PLAYING PLANET TELEX!!

I can assure that the other 21,000 people singing along to Paranoid Android had a good night. Not only was the set beautiful and the songs perfect, the musicianship was seamless. I understand that Radiohead aren't everybody's cup of tea, but you can't say that they're not good musicans because they really, really are. In fact the whole night was just brilliant. Every single second of it.

Anyway, I'll stop orgasaming over Radiohead and let you eat your tea, but before I go I would also like to remind you that it it's Thom Yorke's 44th birthday today, so happy birthday, you legend. He head a 'Free tibet' flag over one of his amps. You can't get more awesome than that.

Wednesday, 3 October 2012

As you know, I occasionally have a stab at some DIY poetry....and if it's not completely rubbish it ends up on here.

So, here is a poem I have cobbled together entitled 'The revolution will be televised' as a tribute to the late Gill Scott-Heron. It was inspired by a recent Philip Larkin reading I went to at Ilkley literature festival, and of course Gill Scott-Heron himself.

Now I hope everyone here is familiar with the legend that is Gill Scott-Heron, jazz musician and soul poet. His works were mainly about consumerism in 1970's/1980's America, and racial segregation. He's someone that inspires me greatly, and I was incredibly sad when he passed away on the 27th of May 2011. I just wished he was still alive now, to witness the effects of the Arab Spring, and an underground revolution amongst the youth of Russia!

Thursday, 30 August 2012

Eyyup campers!
I don't wanna bore you with holiday stories or anything, but our annual family holiday was to sunny Glasgow this year!

The hotel was gorgeous and the Scots were friendly, however I had an interesting few days...as I mainly spent the holiday vomiting into a wastepaper basket and inspecting the Scottish National Health Service! In the end me and Mum had to go home early, but not before we went to the amazing Gallery of Modern art!

We saw lots of really weird and wonderful exhibitions, including the handprint of one of my all time favourite authors!

Aldous Huxley himself. An author loved by millions, famed for his surrealist influenced novels and being off his head on Mescaline in the name of art and science.

A balaclava clad Russian punk band, criticizing the Russian Orthodox church (and it's vice like hold over Russian politics) and Putin's regime, has been imprisoned for 2 years on the medieval charge of 'Blasphemy'.

Whilst you may not agree with gatecrashing a church service and singing punk songs, Pussy Riot's message is a far deeper one.

Their aim is to highlight what really happens underneath the veneer of Putin's regime. In recent years Russia seems to have been making small steps of progress towards respecting human rights, but this is clearly a crumbling facade.

Although now cruelly imprisoned, Pussy Riot have achieved their aim. Everyone from Paul McCartney to my Gran is watching Russia's every move, with the message that Russia is wrong, and the hope that Pussy Riot will be freed.

So, whilst you're drinking a brew, all cosy and warm in bed tonight, spare a thought or two for the martyrs of Pussy Riot, in a freezing prison cell, missing their families, all in the name of free speech and punk rock, whilst Putin relaxes in comfort and grandeur.

Wednesday, 15 August 2012

So, the Olympics are over.
That's it for another 4 years, but bloody hell, we went out with a bang.
Now I'm not your stereotypical patriot. I don't have 'England '66' tattooed in fading ink across my bicep. I'll never sacrifice my life or kill another human being in aid of my country. I don't hate The Queen, but I'm not her biggest fan either, and I certainly do not agree with the amount of taxpayer's money we spend on her each year. I'll also happily admit that I don't attend church on Sundays, and my stint as a Girl Guide was short lived.
However, during two weeks in the middle of August, I felt quite proud of our tiny little island.
Our tiny little island that is famous for it's class system, sarcasm, and the national drink of some Chinese leaves in hot water, which will now be remembered for the Olympics.

As I've said before on this blog, the London 2012 Olympics are far from perfect, but we did a pretty decent job! We hosted them with a smile (albeit sometimes a forced one), which turned into mild surprise when we ended up 3rd in the medal table with 29 gold, 17 silver and 19 bronze medals, and realized that we are much better at sport than Eurovision.

So anyway, I'll stop rabbiting on about my national pride, and give the closing ceremony a mention.

It was pretty damn good!
I'll refrain from making George Micheal jokes, but you really can't fault The Pet Shop Boys accidentally dressed as The KKK!

Another highlight was 80,000 people erupting into John Lennon's Imagine, whilst a sculpture of his face was constructed IKEA style with some white boxes. Somewhat ironically, this was set to the background of some confused North Korean athletes, who will probably never understand peace, and unsurprisingly won all the medals involving weapons.

By far though, the best part of the night was Beady Eye's (sadly not Oasis, but you can never have it all) rendition of Wonderwall, which brought back memories of Year 8 music lessons and also brought a tear to my eye.

The Who then played everybody out with My Generation, in an explosion of tears and confetti.

At this point I received a text from one of my mates, enlightening me to the fact that the guy playing bass for The Who, was wearing a suit made of wool from her parents factory.

I shall take that as my Olympic claim to fame (however tenuous it may be) and politely decline to mention my wool allergy.

Friday, 3 August 2012

Well, summer has been eventful so far!
As well as generally lazing around and drinking tea , I have been...er....watching the Olympics.

Now, I know what you're thinking. I have moaned incessantly about the Olympics, from the moment 7 years ago, on the 6th of July 2005 when we found out we'd won the bid. For 7 whole years, I have groaned, complained, protested and whinged. There's no denying that the Olympics isn't perfect, so far, there have been: deaths, un-acceptable and shameful corporate sponsorship,a horrific scandal concerning DOW chemical, and a cancelled Glastonbury!

However we've also had Mr Bean playing a synthesiser,

a gigantic 100ft Voldermort,

15 gold medals for Team GB,

and er....Boris Johnson dangling from a zipwire.

Only in Britain.

So, as much as I want to hate the Olympics, well...I'm actually quite enjoying them, and so far, the opening ceremony has been a highlight, I loved it, and I'm sure the 27 Million U.K. viewers and the rest of the world (even if some of the Korean viewers weren't quite laughing at the classic British humour) loved it too. Especially the Arctic Monkeys. (Or to be even more specific, Alex Turner.)

The only complaint I would have that whoever said "It's a small world" Has evidently never had to sit through the calling out of the countries at the opening ceremony...bloody hell, I managed to have 3 cups of tea just through the S's! I swear at one point they were just making countries up to make sure Her Maj was awake. Poor sod, I wonder if she was allowed Gin in the stadium?

We'll remember the opening ceremony for years to come, and if I was old enough to bet, I'd put £100 on Danny Boyle getting a knighthood. The word legend is overused, but not in this case.

So yes, as much as I have moaned about the Olympics, I will be avidly watching from my sofa, eating some custard creams, but sadly not dreaming. Because any one who knows me well, will know that Fran and sports don't really mix. Okay, Fran and sports do not mix AT ALL. I cannot throw, I cannot jump and I most certainly cannot run. The only sporting talents I posses are the ability to walk to the fridge plus some mouldy swimming badge, (that will be floating round in my Gran's knicker drawer) saying that I can jump into a large body of water in my pjamas, and swim breaststroke for 100m.

I think even John Prescott doing the hurdles has more sporting talent than I can only dream of.

Thursday, 7 June 2012

Hey there Kidiwinkies,
I realise that I have neglected this blog for a while, I am incredibly sorry.
I understand that some of you will have been feeling pain and depression to an extent that you have considered suicide, but do not worry because......

MY REVIEW ON EUROVISION 2012 IS FINALLY HERE!

Okay, so I realise that it's a full 11 days late, but you can't have everything.
Aside from Azerbaijan's appalling human rights record, it was actually alright this year. Well, funny bad anyway.

First of all, I would like to mention this bloke.

Engelbert Humperndinck (Affectionately nicknamed 'The Hump'.)

Did we honestly think we had a chance of winning? He is 76. And wearing eyeliner.

His song was about 'how love will set us free'. Free from what Engelbert? The chains of a hip replacement?

We got 12 points, mostly because he didn't die on stage (although he came fairly close with that huge note at the end.)

According to his official website (www.engelbert.com) he was 'the victim of political voting'. Says it all really doesn't it?

Now on to Russia's entry.

Russia. A country not even in Europe.

6 Grannies. 6 teeth. They sung a song called 'party for everybody'. Although the best bit was the scones. Half way through one of the Grannies took some scones out of an oven. Why they need scones I have no idea, unless Putin was hidden in the oven with a pistol, screaming "DANCE FOR MOTHER RUSSIA!"

Surprisingly they came second, although one of the Babushka's did not live to see the results.

I have to say though, the highlight of the night was Graham Norton, and his comments about the legality of gay sex in Azerbaijan. What a legend.

Sunday, 27 May 2012

Well after months of careful planning and organisition, Disability Rocks was a total success! Even the unpredictable English weather rallied round and shone over Nell Bank. (I bet there are quite a lot of red necks this morning!)

There was everything from a brass band to a sensory yurt, and a drumming workshop to a silent disco. A particular highlight was the beethovens, an epic disabled band from Liverpool. I got roped into doing the satisfaction questionaires at the end, and AJ gave me a sneaky autograph!

I really didn't want to leave, I met so many amazing people and wish the party would have gone on for ever!

Hopefully there will a be a disability rocks next year, it's such a fantastic idea that can only go up from here!

Sunday, 13 May 2012

Well, other than being up to ears in chemistry revision and having the Scooone/Scon debate with any one who'll listen (Scooone obviously) I went to the guardian offices and the Amnesty UK headquarters on Wednesday for the young human rights reporter of the year competition! That was 2 days I'll never forget, trust me!

4 Yorkshire girls dive head first in to London culture. Yeah, we got lost, yeah we set a carrier bag on fire with my straightners and yeah we went swimming and walked in on a fully naked woman with a beaver like an afro, but we also had an absolutely amazing time! (Yes, that really did happen, I fear it may have left lasting and irreparable emotional damage)

On the day before the awards we travelled up to London, went swimming and had a lovely Italian at Strada which I thoroughly enjoyed.

On the actual morning of the awards we had a journalistic workshop at the guardian offices and generally got treated like V.I.P's!! (Hey, we even got interviewed on camera!) After the workshop wegot a taxi up to the human rights action centre and heard some extremely inspirational speakers, amongst them was Martin Powell, an amazing performance poet, Jack Shenker, a hilarious and empowering journalist, and the lovely Ellie Crissell (who my 8 year old self desperately longed to meet) an ex-newsround presenter.

I was up against Georgia Gilholy, who wrote a really interesting article about Child Brides, and Alice Renynolds who wrote a a powerful article about labour camps in Vietnam. Unfortunately I was only runner up (Alice Reynolds was the deserving winner) but I'm just really honoured to have been there with the cream of British journalism.
It shows that contrary to what the scaremongerers think, the written word isn't dying out, and when used effectively really has the power to change lives. It was also a beacon of hope in a landscape ravaged by the recent collapse of the Murdoch empire.

So if anyone from amnesty or the guardian happens to be reading this blog, I'd just like to say thank you.

Also, here is a photo of me and Ella at the guardian offices for all you nosey people.

If anyone would like to read about the young human rights reporter competition further, here are some links:

Sunday, 15 April 2012

Disability can be many things. It can mean a physical disability like paralysis, or motor neurone disease, or it can be a learning disability like Autism or downs syndrome. There are some disabilities with obvious symptoms, and some that aren't that visible.

I guarantee you though, that you will not regret letting someone disabled into your life.

I know a little boy called Max Sutton. He is the most amazing child you could ever wish to meet.

He loves cricket, badminton, his hamster Leo and standing in his pants like he runs the world. Not even Paul McCartney has as much swagger as Max Sutton does.

Max Rocks. He knows he does. And Max thinks that disability rocks. Which is why his parents, Caroline and Richard Sutton have created a festival to rival the mighty Glastonbury.

After having a bit of an epiphany whilst on holiday in Ibiza, Caroline and Richard realised that there weren't any disability friendly music festivals in Yorkshire, and decided to do something about it.

Tickets are only £15 (£10 for young people and disabled folk) and the line up is spectacular, it has everything from bearded men with guitars, to witty comedians, to drum workshops to a 5 piece Jazz band.

All situated in the best place on earth; Nell bank, West Yorkshire.

So, what exactly are you waiting for? Get yourself off to http://www.disabilityrocks.org and go buy tickets. Buy tickets for yourself, as a present, just go buy tickets. All the profits go towards local disability initiatives, but you better act fast, tickets are selling faster than Lady Gaga's knickers.

Thursday, 12 April 2012

Well It was soggy, cold and wet. I got up at 6:00am. The whole thing consisted of me walking from point A to B a multitude of times. In the cold. In a wool jumper. Those of you who know me, know that I don't mix well with wool. Bearded men shouted 'Action' a lot, and I didn't recognise anyone famous from Emmerdale, although everyone was very friendly and gave us breakfast.

Wednesday, 11 April 2012

Hello Folks!
This is gonna be a quick little post. I really really want to have a mammoth rant about North Korea's nuclear weapons. However I do not have time, so I shall have to restrain myself and save it for later.

On the other hand though, I do have some good news!

Tomorrow I'm going to be an extra in Emmerdale!!

Acting wasn't on my career path, (Jouranalist, Poet, Politician and world famous guitarist were) but hey ho! Beggars can definitely not be choosers!)

Yay with knobs on! When people ask me the 'what is your claim to fame?' question, I ACTUALLY HAVE AN ANSWER!
I am famous! Up there with the likes of Thom Yorke, Morissey, Jarvis cocker and....er Susan Boyle.

Bow down to me folks, bow down.

If anyone from Royal Mail is reading this right now, you may need to send special services out, so you can deliver the vast mountains of fan mail coming my way.

Also, a quick thank you to Mr Foley for making this possible. He's full of surprises that one.

Tuesday, 3 April 2012

Hello there,
I still can't believe that less than 3 days ago, the sun was shining down over all of us, so hot that I burned, and now it's snowing.

The snow is beautiful, it's not sticking yet, but the flakes are raining down thick and fast, in little flurries and swirls. It's made me hibernate in the dark of my room, just watching the snow from my window. I've put all my radiohead albums away, and swapped them for piano music. My trusty telecaster has been downed, and I've dusted off my old acoustic to play Bon Iver songs. I want to be a tiny little embryo again.

Doesn't it look cosy?

Anyway, never mind the old English habit of rambling on about the weather, there are more pressing issues here. If you don't want your little bubble of happiness shattering, look away now.

Russia. They've done it again. Yep, Russia. Everyone's favourite *coughs* Ex Fascist (sorry, Communist) country. The very same that's indirectly slaughtering thousands of Syrians, the same Russia that's put thousands of innocent people in prison due to it's corrupt political system. Well, Russia have scored again!

They're trying to 'Ban' Homesexual 'Propoganda' (Whatever the hell that is?!) That basically stops LGBT people from speaking out in public. As the Russian government deems it 'a form of peadophila'. Usually I'd include a link for you to go to take action about this, but sadly the laws have been passed, and with Russia's AMAZING human rights record on freedom of speech, there's not a lot anyone else can do either!

All is not lost though, slightly closer to home, the gay marriage debate rages on, with seemingly no sign of ending. Now I could write pages and pages about gay marriage. I could rant endlessly, but I shall try to restrain my self. Okay, so some M,P's and religious leaders believe that legalising gay marriage in Britain would 'undermine the institution of marriage'. So Sinead O' Connor can divorce her 4th husband after 16 days, and that's fine, but two people who love each other and happen to be of the same sex, and wish to be married is not? Don't give me a load of crap religious excuses, LOVE is LOVE. Has anyone ever asked God about his stance in gay marriage? No. All we have to go on is some moribund religious text that's 2,000 years old. The pope hates gays, and yet he is a man, in a dress. Hypocritical, no?

So, even if we can't help Russia just yet, we can help our folks back at home, go sign the petition for Equal Marriage in the U.K at http://www.equallove.org.uk/

Wednesday, 28 March 2012

I am no longer a blog virgin! So, now for the awkward introductions. You know the ones, awkward hug handshake combos, being a vegetarian at a meat conference, etcetera, etcetera......

Well, my name (or at least my pseudonym for all you potential peadophiles out there) is TheOxygenJunkie. And I'm currently writing this blog from my teeny tiny bedroom somewhere in the North of England. I have the bog standard life of every working class teenager in England, but occasionally (Usually every Third Thursday in Months with the letter 'O' in them) interesting things DO happen to me.

About me

Hello!
I'm a teenager hoping to make my way in the wonderful world of journalism.
I generally blog about life up North, British politics and anything shiny that catches my eye. Oh, I also like tea and I'm definitely not a morning person.
Anyway, enough about me; welcome to my poor attempt at a blog! Come on in and make yourself comfortable.